


A Piece of Heaven at the End of the World

by comtessedebussy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comtessedebussy/pseuds/comtessedebussy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(I'm really bad with titles. I'm sorry). </p>
<p>Set mid-season 5. The world is ending and Dean's not really seeing the point of fighting anymore, until Castiel shows up to give him just a little taste of Heaven in the midst of darkness and despair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Piece of Heaven at the End of the World

Dean was drinking.

It wasn’t a particularly notable occurrence. In fact, since the falling of the final seal and the start of Armageddon, it had become rather a habit. Dean carried a heavy burden, and it was patently obvious, especially to Cas. The way Dean hunched down under his layers of clothing, as if there was something too heavy on his shoulders. The way his soul was dark, darker than Cas had ever seen it, and his eyes deader as he smiled his flirtatious smile. Drinking beer in bars, he’s start trying to pick up a girl but stop halfway through, as if it was too much effort.

Yet Cas could see that Dean needed something, close contact, a physical embrace that he could disavow nonchalantly the next day. So Cas did what he could, a comforting hand on the shoulder, a presence beside Dean. He hoped it helped. But he was too far from completely understanding how humans worked, and especially how Dean worked, to know what to do. He watched himself fail helplessly with growing despair.

Until one night. Castiel had appeared, as usual, to check on the Winchesters, especially Dean. Dean, who happened to be stumbling home, tipsy and considering that maybe the world could just (literally) go to Hell.

“Dean?”

Dean looked even worse than usual, which wasn't saying much, because at a certain point how much everything sucks stops mattering and drawing lines and talking about degrees is just pointless. There’s little sense in measuring and quantifying the despair and the need (Castiel doesn’t know how he knows it, but what he sees in Dean’s eyes is obviously need) Dean’s obviously feeling right now.

“Cas!” Dean cheers up a bit at the sight of the angel, his mouth even opens to make an offhand remark, but then that, too, is too much effort.

“What is it, Dean?” Castiel asks. He looks at Dean with those piercing blue eyes, eyes that Castiel never really averts because angels can see into your soul and so looking away from your face seems kind of pointless.

“Oh, just the usual. The end of the world is coming, the angels are dicks, the demons are after us, and, oh yeah, Lucifer’s after us too.”

Castiel takes a step closer. Personal space, dude, Dean thinks, but pointing that out to Cas didn’t really work the first time and he isn’t really feeling the urge to try again.

“What do you need, Dean?”

Dean looks at Castiel then. Really looks. The way Castiel is barely inches from him, his head cocked inquisitively to the side (the way he’d done it the first time they’d met), his hair disheveled (again, like the first time they’d met). And maybe from all the exhaustion and despair all of Dean’s barriers come crashing down, or maybe it’s those few shots of alcohol still in his system, or the fact that Castiel is just unabashedly there looking at him with those blue eyes, but suddenly Dean grabs him roughly by the messy hair and kisses him. Castiel doesn’t resist. A part of Dean registers that Castiel doesn’t even seem surprised. He just lets Dean kiss him, lips parting obediently for Dean’s tongue. Castiel’s lips are obscenely full and soft and warm and Dean loses himself for a second.

He opens his eyes to realize they’re not where they started. Behind Castiel, he sees the motel bed, neatly made, makes out the hazy light from a lamp they’d left on. And Castiel – Castiel, who had had that deer-in-the-headlights look when Dean had taken him to the brothel, Castiel who was completely confused by porn, standing before him, looking at Dean expectantly.

“I figured it would be best if I transported us here for the rest – “ Castiel begins quietly, before Dean silences him with another kiss. This one’s longer, more relaxed and more tense at the same time.

He pulls away again to look at Cas. He’s not the kind of guy who bothers with all those consent questions beforehand (if a girl comes home with him from the bar, he figures it’s usually because she has the same thing on her mind as he does), but Castiel is different. Castiel doesn’t know the intricacies of human interactions, of consent, hell, even of choice. He’s still learning that.

“Cas….you’re sure about this?”

Cas looks confused, with that adorable expression of angelic incomprehension plastered on his face.   
“This is what you want, yes?”

Dean sighs, then says, patiently, “you have to want it too, Cas.”  
“I do want…this, Dean.”

And Dean realizes that he wants this too. More than wants. Needs isn’t really an apt way to describe it. He needs food and sleep and booze and his Impala, but Castiel….Castiel is like the part of him that’s been missing. Ever since he got back from Hell he’d felt a part of himself missing. At first he’d thought that it was just the aftershock of having been in Hell, that feeling of brokenness, and it only just now hit him that what he was missing was Castiel. The angel who had touched his soul to raise him from hell. The one he longed for with a dull ache that he never really admitted to himself because he always carried around a dull ache anyway, a desire for home and happiness and comfort. Castiel had become all that.

And so Cas’ few simple words are enough for Dean. Seconds later, Cas’ trenchcoat is on the floor and Dean’s undoing Castiel’s tie and he can feel Castiel pressing against him, hands on Dean’s hips. Then they’re on the bed, Castiel’s shirt unbuttoned and Dean’s T-shirt lying on the floor as Dean sucks a bruise into Castiel’s shoulder.

Where before had been apathy and lethargy and exhaustion, Dean’s feeling a sudden burst of energy, a burning fire – not of desire, per se, but of the desire to brush off all restraints, to just allow himself to follow all his whims, to bite and kiss and fuck and hold as hard as he can. He can feel Cas’ arms around him, faltering, uncertain, his hands running up Dean’s back gently as Dean runs his lips down Cas’ torso. It’s the same kind of feeling that makes him want to clench his fists so much that his nails draw blood, or to run as fast as he can, to drive himself to the limit just to feel.

And right now, the only feeling he wants is the feeling of fucking Cas as hard as he can. He trails his hand down beneath Cas’ boxers, their mouths still crushed together, then pulls away.

“Cas?”

“Dean?”

“I told you that you’re supposed to be enjoying this too.”

Castiel puts on that expression of confusion again. He obviously thought he’d made himself perfectly clear the first time, but then, with humans, you never knew. There was always a but or an if or an exception of a footnote.

“But I am enjoying it, Dean.”

Dean’s eyes flicker down to where Castiel’s only at half -mast and, now that Dean is looking at him, he’s missing that flushed, breathless look that’s crept up on Dean’s face by now.

Dean himself is rock hard by this point, and he really, really doesn’t want to be explaining the intricacies of how sex works to his clueless angel best friend (no, not best friend. Clearly they’d moved past best friend territory into some murky land that had no name). But he knew he’d regret it if he didn’t. He’s also never felt quite as much out of his depth.  
That’s where all his realizations come crashing down. That Castiel has never (ever) asked for anything for himself. Not that Dean has, much, but he’s been able to enjoy things – cars, sex, whatever. The kinds of things that require, well, an ego. Cas doesn’t get that. He’s only ever known obedience and devotion, first to God and Heaven, and now, Dean realizes, to him. He’d do anything for me, Dean realizes with a blood-chilling, freezing pang of emotion. Anything I want, he’d let me.

And so he puts his own needs and desires and longings aside. It’s something he’s been doing his entire life, and he’s used to it by now. His hand finds its way to Castiel’s cock again and starts moving, gently, then more insistently. Slowly, he feels Castiel harden, his mouth a little pouty “oh” of realization. Castiel looks at Dean in surprise.  
Dean smirks.

“Knew you’d get it,” he throws out, more to cover the awkwardness (well, he thinks it’s awkward. Castiel has yet to encounter a definition of the word) of the situation than anything.

“Dean…” Cas murmurs. Glancing at Castiel’s eyes, Dean sees need there. Need that he’s never seen before, ever.

“Yeah, hold on, Cas.” Dean reaches over to where he’d thrown his duffel on the floor by the bed. There was a half-used bottle of lube down at the bottom, left over from when he actually still bothered to pick girls up at bars and had the energy to try interesting shit with them. He smothers a fair amount over his own cock, because he’s never done this before, not even with girls (if he cared to examine why, he might have thought that doing so would allow him too close to an unfortunate truth he didn’t want to admit to about his own sexuality, but Dean usually didn’t care to examine those kinds of things). More lube goes on his fingers, which he uses to open Cas up gently. 

He can almost feel Cas’ need by this point from where their skin is almost touching; it’s like electricity in the air between them, some magnetic attraction pulling their bodies together. If he had any doubts about this, they’ve long ago flown out the window. He gives Cas another kiss, tender this time, before pushing in slowly. He hears Cas let out a gasp below him, his grip tightening just slightly on Dean’s shoulders, before letting out another “oh” of surprise as Dean pushes all the way in. What he really wants to do is just fuck Cas senseless, and Cas is a damn angel, Dean knows he can take it, but Castiel is also his angel. And he’s going to take care of his angel. Because the thing is terrified of most right now is making Cas feel used, of seeming ungrateful, and of breaking one of the most precious things he’s ever had.

After a second, though, Cas starts fidgeting below him, and he begins moving, slowly at first, but Dean’s never been one for patience, and certainly not now, and so he escalates quickly to a frantic, needy pace. It feels glorious, this coupling of theirs, as if they’ve waited for a thousand years for it. And, Dean realizes, in Cas’ case, he has waited more than a thousand years. He’s never had anyone besides Dean, the Winchester realizes, and probably never will. He’s offering himself up to Dean, millennia of knowledge and power and obedience and restraint crammed into a human body and laid out for Dean’s pleasure. The thought makes him all the more frantic, as if there’s more energy than he can contain building up inside him and if he stills for a second it’ll shatter him into a thousand pieces. He can feel Cas around him, embracing him, every inch of his body seemingly contained by the celestial being. Dean’s never been one for spirituality, but this, he thinks, is a spiritual experience in more than one way.

He feels Castiel’s breath on his hair just then, which brings him strangely back to reality. That small, barely discernible wisp of air just past his ear reminds him that there’s a needy and very patient angel lying below him. Castiel’s cock is still hard, and by now it’s absolutely dripping when Dean takes it into his hand, and the harsh, swift movements of his hand mirror his own body’s frantic thrusts. Dean’s already on edge, full of adrenaline, and he feels his orgasm uncurling slowly, rising from the depths and exploding, until he’s coming inside Cas with the force of a rocket, and he could swear that he feels ringing in his ears, and he thinks vaguely that it’s almost like the ringing in his ears after the first time Castiel had tried to speak to him. And, before he knows it, Cas is coming too, his patent look of angelic confusion quickly effaced by surprise, then pleasure. And Dean smiles, because it’s not very often that he’s seen pleasure, genuine pleasure, on Castiel’s face, and he thinks that it’s he, Dean Winchester, who’s brought the angel to this.

Then Castiel is looking up at him with his clear, patient blue eyes.

“I love you, Dean,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

And the world stops for a moment. It’s not a romantic slow-motion, like at the movies; the world just freezes because Dean just doesn’t know what to do with those words and so the world seems to stop for him until he figures it out. Except he doesn’t, and time starts again, and Castiel is still looking at him, though there isn’t really expectation in his face.  
“I – “ Dean starts, but his usual talent for cocky remarks seems to have abandoned him tonight.

“I don’t know what to say to that, Cas,” Dean admits. It’s the most honest he’s been with anyone in a long time, and it’s only because of the afterglow that makes him feel like, for just a few seconds, life might be live-able. Because there’s an angel of the lord looking up at him in adoration. And although he’s Dean Winchester, which means he’ll probably lose that one day, so he doesn’t want to admit it’s there, nevertheless, for a few seconds, it seems like it might be all right.

“You don’t have to say anything, Dean. I just want you to know,” Castiel says patiently.

Dean collapses next to Cas, glad to stretch out languorously after that absolutely celestial orgasm. Castiel puts his arm around him and they lie there, looking up. Dean thinks of how up there, up above, there is a Heaven, with angels, and how the only heaven he wants is the one with the one angel next to him. And Paradise is supposed to be eternal, but he knows that somehow, some way, his won’t be. Because the world is going to Hell and pretty soon there might not be an Earth or a Heaven of any kind left. But for the moment, his Heaven is still a whole lot better than the one God had in mind.


End file.
